Good Cop, Bad Cop
by London Sparrow
Summary: '"It's been fun, Com-miss-ion-er!" the Joker yelled, flashing his signature Glasgow grin. "The good cop, bad cop routine is always a fun game. Oh, and Commissioner..." The door slammed shut, but not before Gordon heard the Joker's last three words. "...You're almost there."'


The interrogation room was beginning to be a familiar place. Almost like home, the Joker reflected, chuckling when the SWAT officers pushed him through the doorway. He deliberately shifted his feet so that he would lose his balance and burst into outrageous laughter when his head cracked against the floor. Oh, yes. It was definitely a home away from home now.

Muttering curses and something about street scum, the SWATs let the door swing closed, doing nothing to prevent it from slamming. The giggling Joker lifted himself from the floor and sat with his back pressed against the wall, noting the table and chairs but choosing to ignore them in the manner of a stubborn child. His head throbbed dully and his gaze shifted to the table. Having his skull crash down onto the hard metal surface had given him worse pain than this. He studied his socks thoughtfully, then frowned and reached out to pluck off an offending piece of lint. For a man who was sworn not to kill, the Batman could pack a wallop.

A buzzer went off, causing a harsh echo in the room and a shrill ringing in his ears. He scowled at the mirrored glass across the room, knowing whoever was watching him would probably shrink back in fear. He felt a rush of adrenaline that came with the knowledge that he had inspired such fear.

The Joker turned his gaze to the door, hating the squeal of the hinges as it opened. A tired-looking Commissioner Gordon entered the room, running a hand through his graying hair. He sighed upon spotting the clown on the floor and gestured towards the table. The Joker didn't move other than to clasp his hands in his lap. Gordon shook his head, pulling the chair away from the table and turning it to face the madman.

Silence fell over the room. Then: "Harvey Dent is dead."

The Joker raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Don't blame _me_. I was right here." He held up his hands in a mockery of being innocent. "Who killed him?"

Gordon wrung his hands, seeming to be struggling with whether or not he should tell anything to this man. "The Batman," he said finally. "Harvey had my kids. The Batman saved my son, but Harvey..." His voice trailed off and he cleared his throat. "Harvey didn't make it," he said simply.

Pride filled the Joker's core. Finally, _finally _he had broken his one rule. Then he frowned again, realizing that he had not been the one to push the Batman over the edge.

"Harvey, Harvey, Harvey Dent!" the Joker muttered, twiddling his thumbs. He missed the feeling of his switchblade in his hands. Then his smile returned and he giggled. "I always knew he was good for something."

The commissioner frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

The Joker tilted his head, his grin widening. "Everyone assumes that I would risk losing the battle for Gotham's _soul _in a _fistfight _with the Batman. No," he said, wagging a finger in denial. "You need an _ace _in the _hole_."

"What did you do?"

"How ironic, the Batman asked me that very question himself." The clown giggled. "I was, ah, tied up at the moment."

Gordon was staring at him intently. The Joker grinned, feeling his scars twinge and stretch over his face, loving the suspense of the moment. "I took Gotham's White Knight," the Joker said slowly, "And brought him down to my level." He lifted his broad shoulders in a shrug. "It wasn't hard."

At Gordon's confused look, he elaborated, "See, madness - as you know - is like gravity. All it takes is a little... _Push_!" Laughter overtook him and he surrendered himself to the guffaws of pure joy.

The police commissioner waited for the laughs to fade away, sitting quietly with practiced patience that came with raising two very young children. When the Joker was quiet once again, merely smiling widely, Gordon spoke. "I spoke with the Arkham board members on the way here."

At the mention of the Asylum, the Joker's laughs subsided completely and his slouched position seemed to become a little straighter. "Did you?" he murmured, tucking his chin into his chest and staring at the commissioner from beneath his white brow.

"Yes. They're sending someone to pick you up. You'll remain there until it is time for your hearing in court."

"Court?" He clucked his tongue in false disappointment. "You'd think I was in _trouble _for something."

If Gordon was angered, his stony face didn't show it. He remained still, watching the Joker with an almost bored air. "We'll need time to find a judge willing to hear the case," he continued, choosing to ignore the clown's statement. "There are multiple charges. However, it is most likely that you'll be sentenced to spend the remainder of your time in Arkham. I imagine the jury will find you criminally insane and vote that you be sent there."

"Arkham," the Joker repeated, smiling wistfully. "The last time I saw that place, Carmine Falcone was refusing to speak with me. He just stayed on his little cot, like this -" He swung himself around so that he was laying on the cold floor, facing the ceiling. "- And he kept muttering, _Scarecrow. Scarecrow. Scarecrow. _Personally," the Joker continued, "I would have hoped that he would be muttering _my _name, but he was never much of a pal anyway."

Gordon watched the scene play out, raising a brow thoughtfully. "Pal," he said quietly. "Who is a pal to you?"

Agile as a child, the Joker lifted himself up again and pressed his back to the wall. "You mean, like, _friends_?" At Gordon's hesitant nod, the clown burst into wild laughter. "_Friends_," he repeated incredulously. "What good are they?"

"They -" the commissioner began, but the Joker raised a finger.

"When the chips are down, it's every man for himself. People smile, call you 'friend' to your face while reaching around to plant the _knife _between your shoulder blades. These, uh, 'friendships'? They're a bad joke. Dropped at the first sign of trouble."

The Joker smiled, running his tongue over his scars. "See, I'm not a monster," he said to Gordon. He rubbed his hands together and then planted them firmly on his thighs, leaning forward as though he was about to share a secret. "I'm just ahead of the curve."

Gordon's resolve shattered and he rose violently from the chair, leaving it lying hazardously on the floor behind him. Just before his outstretched hands made contact with the laughing clown's throat, the buzzer went off again and the door opened to reveal a dozen men flooding the room in a mix of white coats and blue uniforms.

"Commissioner Gordon," an officer called out. Gordon quickly moved away from the Joker and straightened his uniform. "We're ready to transport the suspect."

The Joker clapped his hands excitedly, but a pair of handcuffs silenced his motion. He was lifted and roughly dragged from the interrogation room, but on the way out he twisted around to call back to the commissioner. His words left chills running down Gordon's spine.

"It's been fun, _Com-miss-ion-er_!" the Joker yelled, flashing his signature Glasgow grin. "The good cop, bad cop routine is _always _a fun game. Oh, and Commissioner..."

The door slammed shut, but not before Gordon heard the Joker's last three words.

"...You're almost there."


End file.
